


The Pros and Cons of Being

by liamscurlock



Series: What We Become (And How We Become It) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Mental Health Issues, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Post-War, Professor Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamscurlock/pseuds/liamscurlock
Summary: They don't talk about how hard the nightmares were the first months after the war, nor do they talk about the aching grief that lodges in his bones and latches onto him like a vice. They don't talk about how his head feels like it's falling off every time he walks into a crowded space, nor how sometimes he will sit in the parlor of his too big house and wonder why there is too much space to fill but too little people left alive to fill it.  They don't talk about it, and they never will, so it's time for someone to do it themselves.Harry Potter wanted to be an Auror, once upon a time when all he had known was the fight and the bad guys. But when the war was done and the ashes had settled, he went to see a mind-healer to help him find a steady beat in his life. In doing that, he found a new dream too.





	1. Come What May

**Author's Note:**

> The work's title is inspired by Fall Out Boy's song, "The Pros and Cons of Breathing." The series title comes from a quote in "One Tree Hill." None of these things belong to me, nor does JK Rowling's entire work of the Harry Potter Universe. I don't own anything please don't sue me.
> 
> TW: This whole work and series revolve around mental healing, traumatic experiences, mental illness, and the struggle to find a way to heal yourself. It goes in depth into Harry's mental illnesses, including his PTSD, OCD, Insomnia, Disassociative Disorder, and Depression. A lot of the other characters have some of these as well. I don't pretend to be a psychologist, but I will try to do these as much justice as I can. 
> 
> These characters are healing, so if they seem aggressive and not exactly themselves, just believe that they're rattled and haven't been themselves. 
> 
> So yeah, enjoy my new story and feel free to drop any suggestions in the form of a comment, which will be greatly appreciated.

**_May 3rd, 1998, 3:00 AM, Gryffindor 7th year Boy's dormitories_ **

_He woke to the sound of a door opening. He’d been asleep minutes it felt, every second gasping and grasping for his wand, struck by nightmares and instincts he wished would have faded the second Tom Riddle’s dead body hit the floor. So, he hadn’t really slept, but he might as well start trying to trick himself into believing he could._

_Harry brought his hand around to the nightstand beside his four poster bed, reaching for glasses. Before he touched the wood, however, their cold metal was pressed into his hand. Above him was standing a pale blur, and after he put the aforementioned glasses on, the blur straightened out into Ginny Weasley._

_“I’d wondered where you’d gotten up to,” she mused, sitting down on the foot of the bed, “It made sense you’d want a good sleep after all that.”_

_Harry, besides himself, let out a low chuckle. The sound of it brought a little light into Ginny’s eyes._

_He nudged her with his leg, “I’m not the only one. Have you slept?”_

_She grimaced, “The girl’s side of the dormitories is somewhat destroyed, so, no. I’ve been in the great hall, trying to help. So’ve Hermione and Ron. Though, they said they couldn’t sleep, not that they wanted to.” She breathed out a sigh, her eyes focusing on the window past his head._

 

_“How long was I asleep?” He asked._

 

_“A couple hours.” Her eyes slide back to his. She has purple under her eyes, bruises splayed on her jaw and her knuckles, a smudge of dried blood below her nose. She looks exhausted._

_“Sleep here, I’ll go check on everyone.” He offers. She grins halfway at him, a small amount of mirth in it._

_“Stay. I don’t-” She breaks the grin, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I don’t really want to be alone.”_

_He shrugs. He’s half aware that he’s covered in dirt still, dried blood on his skin, and he’s wearing dirty jeans and no shirt. But she’s just as ragged as he._

_So she shrugs a torn sweater off, steps out of dusty trainers and settles beneath the covers. He breathes a laugh when her elbows dig into his ribcage, and she grins as his too long hair tickles her nose. And for now, the space in her heart is full, and the shouting in his head is quiet, and they feel okay._

___

 

 

That’s the memory his Mind-Healer told him to focus on when he went into one of his _moods_. When the world got foggy and his hands shook and nothing made sense. It’s like casting a Patronus Charm, Healer Shafiq had said once, you have to grasp onto a happy memory and not let it go. He did that most mornings, laid in bed and pushed himself to remember what was good.

 

He and most of his classmates had finished their last year of schooling in a flurry, finding random places in the rebuilding castle to cram too much information in their heads.

 

Hermione liked to think she created as many study pamphlets as she could, and truly she did, but learning had lost its meaning to most of them during the war. Ron kept everyone fed during their sessions, reminding his friends to take breaks and eat and sleep. Harry locked himself in rooms and for months could barely stand to be in noisy areas.

 

His friends were healing. His friends were trying. His friends had nightmares that left them gasping or screaming and he held them when they woke. But Harry’s nightmares left him quiet, and he never told a soul what they were about or woke them up or screamed in the night. Harry’s fears were kept quiet, were kept secret, were pushed deeper and deeper into his chest until he pretended he couldn’t feel them anymore.

 

“ _Were you ever afraid, Harry?” His godson would ask one day. And Harry would smile and laugh and laugh and hold Teddy close. And then he would say, “Yes. I was afraid every day.”_

_“Of what?”_

_“Losing anyone else. Losing myself. I didn’t-” He broke off, squinting at the sun coming through the windows of the Burrow. “I didn’t want anything bad to happen to the people that were left. I wanted everyone to be safe, even if that meant I wasn’t.”_

 

And even though his nightmares were quiet and hidden, his friends still saw them. Hermione wrapped a sleeping Harry in blankets on the worst nights, sitting against his headboard and letting him curl around her legs, typing away at her laptop with a hand threaded through his unruly hair. Ron stashed food in Harry’s robes, writing him letters and hiding them in his office, never asking twice when Harry crashed in the Burrow and woke up curled on the floor under a mountain of hand stitched blankets.

 

Neville brought Harry to tea, to lunches with Luna, brought him piles of sweets when he knew Harry had been holed up in his room all day. Luna dropped scarves and mittens in Harry’s room, kissed his forehead and told him about her adventures in the Forbidden Forest that morning, laughed at his attempts at humor and took him with her to the back streets of Diagon Alley where all the best shops were.

 

Ginny woke him up before dawn sometimes and rushed him down to the Quidditch pitch to fly in their pajamas, came to the castle when memories of the Burrow were too strong and wrapped her arms around him as he pretended to sleep, and dropped Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties in his office before he got there. George, on the days where it was easier to care for someone else than himself, brought Harry to the shop and covered him in Pygmies, bought him ice cream for breakfast at muggle ice cream parlors,  and dragged him to Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Fleur dropped newborn Victoire in his arms and brought him to the park, watched his fake smile turn into a real smile at the baby’s coos, wrapped him in Bill’s newest attempt at knitting and made him chamomile with just a little bit of Firewhiskey to help keep the nightmares away.

 

He wasn’t unloved. He wasn’t alone. And he knew that. He knew every sacrifice his friends made for him, kept them written down to pay back one day, kept the memories burned in his head. He wasn’t happy, but he was getting there.

 

So when he had finished Hogwarts, technically, he went to the Auror’s office with Ron and asked how to sign up. But, when his quill hit the edge of that paper, he stopped. He thought about all the pain the war gave him, and he walked away.

 

McGonagall was in her office when he got to Hogwarts. He hadn’t really meant to apparate there, just let his feet walk and walk out of the ministry and when he twisted, he wasn’t thinking of a destination, just home, just a future that felt right and didn’t feel like snakes climbing round and round his heart and squeezing.

 

She looked up at him barely when the gargoyle let him in. Her glasses dangling off her nose and her quill scribbling across the parchment on her desk.

“Can I be of assistance to you, Mr. Potter?” She gave him a small smile, and he hesitated.

 

He took a breath and asked, “How do you become a professor?”  


	2. A Yes a No a Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I don't own nothin'. Sorry for the wait, I was in California for a week, though I did write all of this chapter, and the next while flying. I'll upload chapter three tomorrow. Thanks for your time and your reading, makes me really happy. :)

**_October 7th, 1998_ **

 

It wasn’t immediate, which he knew would happen. Realistically, McGonagall should have told him to wait because technically he didn’t have any life experience outside of school. Technically. But she knew, she knew the last eight years of his life had counted as plenty of life experience to go by.

 

And so, saddled with the task of a year to prepare, Harry set off to “realistically gain life experience, but do not dare try to get yourself killed Mr. Potter because you will definitely not have a job if you keep up this whole ‘dangerous lifestyle’.” 

 

He set off to Andromeda’s house upon leaving the ancient castle. He’d been there often in the past months, holding onto his last real shred of a family in her grandson, his godson. There, in those walls of eggshell paint and winding staircases and windows overlooking gardens full of life, he had just a little bit of home. 

 

Being in their home made him wonder a lot about the difference in this war orphan’s life compared to his once upon a time. Here was an infant, too similar to him, that was welcomed with loving hands and sweets pressed into his palms and stories every night before bed and a godfather that  _ loved _ him more than he thought he could. And here was this boy that had the opposite of his childhood, and would be loved and loved and loved until his heart could positively burst because Edward Remus Lupin deserved the world.

 

Harry sat in a worn wooden chair at Andromeda’s dining table. Teddy beside him in a highchair, smearing mashed peas down his chin. Andromeda herself perched against the counter, watching these boys that had so quickly taken over her heart grin at each other with nothing but adoration on both of their faces. 

 

“How did the talk with Minerva go today, dear?” She asked, coming over to wipe a cloth over Teddy’s face.

 

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, “More or less, I have the job. My only requirement is to come back in one year with _‘adequate, not life endangering life experience.’_ And if I can do that, Hogwarts will open with a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher come next September.”

 

Andromeda placed a warm hand on the back of his neck, a smile gracing her lips. “You might very well be one of the youngest professors Hogwarts has ever had. Which is just another title to add to your growing list of accomplishments that a 19-year-old should most definitely not have.” She smoothed the cowlick at the back of his head, “Congratulations, Harry. We’ll have to celebrate.”

 

“I can call the Weasley’s and ask if they’d like to meet for dinner.” Harry’s tapping his wand against his knee. “We can try that place that Luna took me to last Wednesday, The Grey Cloak.”

 

She grinned, “Well, if Miss Lovegood took you there, it must be reputable and nowhere any respectable pure-blood would deign to enter. My sort of place.”

 

Teddy blew bubbles at Harry, his hair darkening and eyes turning green. “Up, up!” He threw his arms in the air, waiting for Harry to pick him up.

 

A chuckle passed Harry’s lips as he wiped the remnants of peas from Teddy’s hands before picking him up. Andromeda and Harry both knew perfectly well that Teddy could levitate himself out of his chair whenever he pleased, but normally waiting for his family to pick him up.

 

The magic in Teddy’s blood was strong, according to the Healers. A metamorphagus since the minute he was born, with traces of werewolf and blood of one of the oldest and most magical families in the Wizarding world to boot, Teddy had been doing accidental magic more and more the older he got. At six months, he’d basically mastered levitating out of high chairs and onto tables and counters, could summon toys to him most days, and, turn out lights whenever he had a fit, sometimes bursting the whole bulb.

 

Andromeda said that Nymphadora had also displayed these feats of magic as an infant, said it ran in the Black blood. She told Harry stories of his godfather sitting on ceilings and dousing everyone with wine at parties when he didn’t get what he wanted. 

 

Harry spun Teddy around the room, a smile splitting his face as Teddy guffawed and cried out with glee. 

 

A moment later, a floocall disrupted the mirth.

 

Ron Weasley’s face appeared in Andromeda’s fireplace, shouting, “Oi! Mate, we’re playing Quidditch after dinner if you want to bring Teddy and ‘Dromeda along. Mum says to tell her we’re having dinner at 7, and if she has to- Wait, Mum what am I supposed to- oh, to bring pudding if she really needs to bring somethin’.”

 

Andromeda rose from her seat in the living room and kneeled beside the fireplace. “Tell your mother we’d love to come, and that I’ll bring pudding  _ and _ a salad. We’ll be there shortly.”

 

Ron grinned, “Yes ma’am.”

 

Teddy perched on Harry’s leg, peering at the flames. 

 

“Hi Ted, I’ll see you soon bud. Don’t let Uncle Harry forget your baby broomstick, we need a seeker better than him.” Ron winked as he smiled impossibly wider at the baby.

 

Leaning closer, Teddy giggled with delight.

 

“See you soon mate, ‘Dromeda.” Ron ended the fire-call with a wave.

 

An hour later the Tonks-Lupin-Potter crew found themselves on the grass just outside the Burrow’s anti-apparition charms. Ginny Weasley was waiting for them on the front stoop.

 

Teddy, upon seeing her, nearly threw himself out of Harry’s arms. Harry rolled his eyes fondly and quickened his walk to Ginny. She reached to take Teddy, and Harry pressed a kiss to her temple as he deposited the squirming boy in her grasp.

 

Andromeda hugged Ginny around her grandson, careful of the platters she was carrying. Gleeful shouts could be heard from inside the house, followed by the door opening and several Weasley’s joining them in the front yard.

 

Bill and Fleur were the first to reach them. Bill gave Harry a one-arm hug around the shoulders, whilst Fleur smacked kisses on both of his cheeks. She dropped a kiss atop Teddy’s head as well, earning her a beaming smile from the boy. Bill ruffled the curly red hair atop Teddy’s head and a grin took over his scarred face.

 

Ron punched Harry’s shoulder and tapped Teddy’s nose, laughing at Teddy’s eyes going cross-eyed to follow his finger. He hugged Andromeda around the shoulders and took the plates from her. 

 

George’s greetings were more subdued, waving at them from the door, as Charlie dragged them inside to Molly’s waiting arms. 

 

Molly kissed all three arrivals on the cheek, taking Teddy from Ginny and fondly pinching his cheeks at the delighted way he cooed and how his hair swirled between every shade of red he knew, until he landed on the color identical to hers. The Weasley matriarch’s grin was unparalleled at the sight of him always, at ease with the company of a baby that none of the other adults could match. 

 

“Percy should be joining us, he called this morning to say his girlfriend would try to come.” She hugged Harry, pulling back to push his too shaggy hair from his eyes. “You look well, love, how are you holding up this week?”

 

Harry stuck his hands back in his trouser pockets, “I’m well Molly, I’ve news to share at dinner if that’s alright.”

 

Molly patted his cheeks and gave her consent, moving on to Andromeda and catching her by the elbow to drag her to the kitchen.

 

He made his way back to the living room. As he neared it, hands encircled his waist and a cheek pressed against his back. Ginny’s shock of hair was over his shoulder, and Harry turned her in his arms until her head pressed against his chest. 

 

“‘Ssed you this week,” was mumbled against him, Ginny’s voice almost gruff and quiet. 

 

Harry dropped a kiss atop her head, wrapping her tighter in his arms. “I missed you too.” 

 

Charlie edged past them in the hallway, grinning at Harry, but otherwise not saying anything about their embrace or his sister’s demeanor.

 

Harry and Ginny had had many encounters such as this over the summer, one finding the other to wrap themselves in safe arms to deal with the sadness of the day or the anguish of the week. Neither liked admitting weakness, so these embraces were hardly talked about. 

 

Ginny’s head popped up from his collar, eyes a little red but nonetheless dry, and kissed his chin. “You’re wearing a new shirt, aren’t you? Did you finally go see Malkin after all?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Harry thumbed the button on his shirt. “I did, thank you very much. She was extremely surprised to see me for something other than my school robes.” He smirked at her, lowering his voice, “She was even more surprised when I asked to be fitted for Professor’s robes.”

 

Her mouth dropped a bit, then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Pulling back, she grasped his cheeks and her mouth twisted into his favorite room-lighting smile. “Oh, Harry I’m so proud of you. I knew Minnie would say yes.”

 

Harry pulled her through the hallway, “I’ll tell you more about it at dinner. No one else knows yet, well, ‘cept ‘Dromeda and Teddy. It’s a surprise.”

 

She nodded at him, still grinning as they pushed through the doorway.

 

They sat, and the rest of their loved ones were already sitting. Ginny pushed Ron a seat over and pushed Harry down beside her. She wound her hand through his and they were surrounded in warmth, in safety, and, in that moment, nothing could go wrong.

 


	3. Pay No Mind to Desolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this was gonna be up days ago, but I kept forgetting to edit it, and now it's here. Very sorry folks. Once again, I own nada.

**October 9th, 1998**

 

Harry woke to warm sheets, a mess of red hair on the pillow beside him, and his wand vibrating under his head.

 

He pushed his hand beneath the pillow and pulled the wand out. A tempus charm made it vibrate, alerting him to the time. He had an appointment at 9, and, true to nature, overslept.

 

Brushing the hair back from still sleeping Ginny’s eyes, he kissed her forehead and pulled the covers up closer to her chin.

 

Harry heaved himself off of the bed, rummaging in his wardrobe for clean underwear. He showered, standing under water hot as it could go until his head cleared and he could breathe evenly. 

When he walked out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips, Ginny was pulling a shirt over her head in the middle of his bedroom. She kissed his wet shoulder, and then his mouth for several moments, sleep still in her eyes and her movements still lethargic. She squealed when he wrapped his wet arms around her, pushing him against the wall and tickling his ribs until he, too, squealed. He laughed and laughed and so did she until they heard the telltale signs of baby Teddy waking in the bedroom.

 

Harry thought of moments like this in the shower on mornings when getting up was hard. He thought of Ginny and her worn hands and her dimples and the freckles on her arms. He thought of waking to see her and sometimes to see Teddy in the crib across from the bed, both of them sleeping with their mouths wide open and drooling, and in his head, he fell in love with the sight of them.

 

He also fell in love with the real sight of them, right in front of his eyes. Walking into the bedroom hand in hand, Teddy was squalling in his crib, eyebrows furrowed and hair black.

 

Teddy screwed open his eyes when he heard Harry’s voice shushing him. His eyes were identical to Harry’s, and then switching when he saw Ginny beside his godfather. They were bright blue, tears drying and eyebrows unfurrowing at the sight of him. 

 

Harry wrapped him in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his curly-haired head. Ginny also kissed the boy, blowing a raspberry on his cheek right after.

 

_ This _ , Harry thought to himself,  _ this is what Shafiq means. This is the kind of happy I’m supposed to think of. _

 

_____

 

**Three hours later, Metropolitan Magizoo of Houston, Texas, USA**

 

There was a familiar smell of ashwinder soot was in the air. A hot breeze hit the back of his neck, as an unfamiliarly accented voice called his name.

 

“Harry Potter, was it?” He turned to see a woman several inches taller than him, in dark blue robes standing to his left.

 

He nodded to her, shaking her hand. “Hullo, I’m here to see-”

 

“Yes, I know. Johnnie’s just this way. He’s in a bit of a hurry, so we’d best skedaddle quick.” She cut him off, grabbing his shoulder and leading him to a door across the pavilion.

 

She, not so gently, pushed him through a door. He stood there rumpled for a moment, taking in his surroundings.

 

The room Harry had been led to was another something he never thought he’d see. Rows of trinkets and objects that made no sense to him lined the walls, a small potions lab sat in a corner with bubbling, fizzing, and smoking cauldrons on a long table beside it, rows of jars were on shelves on the far wall, and the room smelled oddly of bananas.

 

Harry’s inspection of the room ended on the man waiting for him beside the jars. He was tall and dark, dressed in slightly rumpled gray robes that had various stains on the bottom portion, with a smudge of ash on his temple and cheekbone. Johnnie Davis, 25, Half-blood, Head of Magizoology at the Magizoo. Not nearly as formidable as Harry was expecting. 

 

“You don’t look half as scary as MACUSA made you seem,” Johnnie stated, sizing Harry up and down.

 

“I wasn’t aware that America’s government cared for England’s troubles,” Harry mused. “Have they been telling horror stories about me, then?”

 

Johnnie held his hand out to Harry, “Yes, and no.” He grinned, bright white teeth showing in a genuine smile. “I’m Jonathan Davis, but you can call me Johnnie.”

 

Harry smiled back at him, shaking his hand. “And I’m Harry Potter.”

 

And so began his foray into Magizoology. Which led to many burns, scrapes, and poultices being smeared on when he returned home.


End file.
